


The Return

by avaalons



Category: American (US) Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avaalons/pseuds/avaalons
Summary: You never should have split up...





	The Return

The city was busy. It was Saturday night, so that was a given really and Chris was trying really, really hard to get into the spirit of the night out. It was his buddy’s birthday after all, he was home in Boston, he was out with his friends and he should have been having a great time. But, as he sat at the bar and rolled his beer bottle between his palms, the problem was that the last time he’d been in Boston… well, you’d walked out of his house two days before he was due to leave for LA, with two small bags of the belongings that had found homes around the place and no intention of returning, or, it seemed, seeing or speaking to him ever again.

And it had been hard. Really hard. Yet another relationship unable to withstand the pressures of his career, or the distance, or the amount of time he spent away from Boston. He’d spent a long time afterwards wondering how yet another good, or so he’d thought, relationship had slipped through his fingers. This one was supposed to be it. He’d had that usually so elusive feeling of completeness, he was sure, like he could imagine waking up with you every morning for… ever. 

But it wasn’t to be. Being with him had turned you into a paranoid wreck, you’d said, and that wasn’t you. You weren’t this emotionally unstable, jealous creature that you’d become. You barely slept during his last stint in LA and even when you kept away from the press, you were constantly plagued by well-meaning ‘friends’ who thought it was ‘better coming from me than someone else,’ a message usually followed up with a link to some ‘article’ from somewhere. 

It was getting too much, too overwhelming, and you just didn’t think you were strong enough to cope with it for much longer. 

Chris had very little to say in reality. He couldn’t argue with your reasons: he was away a lot and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. His livelihood was in LA and while he’d been back to Boston as much as possible, there was a large portion of him that had given up when he’d heard your speech and seen your watery eyes. He should have expected it really. 

'But… I love you,’ he remembered whispering, holding both your hands between his, trying to implore you with his eyes but knowing ultimately that it wasn’t fair to keep you. 

'I know you do,’ the tears had fallen gently down your cheeks at that and he’d wanted nothing more than to wipe them away but was afraid to let go of your hands, afraid to give you that opportunity to leave him a moment sooner.

You’d shaken your head as if you couldn’t believe what you were doing and your voice had been strained when you spoke, 'I love you too. But it’s not enough, Chris. It’s not enough.’

And as he watched you leave, he couldn’t help but notice this was only the fourth time you’d told him you loved him.

'Dude,’ the sympathetic voice of his friend, Ryan, to his left brought him back to the present, 'Get out of your head. We’re here to have a good time, remember? Now, get yourself off the bar, turn around and check out all the potentials in here tonight. Saturday night in Boston, man.’

Ryan raised his bottle towards Chris and Chris lifted his own to clink the glass in cheers as Ryan turned to face out from the bar and scan the room. Chris took a deep breath and did the same but what he saw made his heart stop and nausea fill his stomach. 

'Shit,’ he swore under his breath on instinct and Ryan glanced at him quickly before following Chris’ line of sight.

'Oh, for fuck’s sake. What’s she doing here?’

'She lives here, man,’ Chris said humourlessly, taking a deep mouthful of his beer to ease the sudden dryness in his mouth

'Of all the fucking gin joints…’ Ryan shook his head, 'Finish up, we’ll round up the boys and get out of here. Who’s she with anyway?’

'It’s all right, it was bound to happen eventually. She hasn’t even noticed I’m here. Better to get it over with, right? I have no idea who that dude is.’

'Do you know what, man? Fuck her. Fuck him. Fuck the whole sorry situation. Let’s just get wasted,’ Ryan turned back to the bar to flag down a bartender for a round of tequila. 

Chris turned back too, to lessen the chance of you spotting him from across the room, but not before he’d seen you shown to a small booth by the man you were with. He watched you shrug out of your coat, the material falling into the man’s waiting hands, before you shuffled into the booth seating and smiled up at him. Chris couldn’t tell what number date this was but you looked fucking good, even if it killed him to see you with someone else. 

***

There had been two more rounds of tequila shots and Tom, birthday boy, was apparently having an awesome time. Chris wasn’t sure if you had spotted him or not but every time he glanced over his shoulder, you were focused on your date. The looks he threw your way grew longer and longer until eventually Ryan, slightly more amenable now the shots were taking over, clapped Chris on the shoulder.

'Look, why don’t you just go to talk to her?’ Ryan suggested, speech slightly slurred.

'She’s with a date dude, I can’t go over there!’ Chris sounded horrified, imagining the humiliation.

'He’s nothing special! Accountant is my guess, look at his attempt at smart casual,’ Ryan observed rather ungenerously. 

But Chris was less inclined to go down that path. Sure, this guy’s suit pants and jacket were fairly cheaply made, and his shirt was cut slightly too big for him, but Chris knew things like that didn’t matter. If he was a guy that was around, that wasn’t making you doubt yourself every minute of the day, if he could dedicate time to you whenever you needed it, then he could give you far more than Chris could. One eye on cheap suit guy and his animated conversation and Chris was far too aware of his own shortcomings.

'Jesus, I need more tequila or I’m going to end up crying into my beer,’ Chris sighed. 

'Aye aye, Captain,’ Ryan saluted.

'Fuck you.’

***

'Chris, Chris, he’s gone to the bathroom,’ Ryan swatted Chris’ shoulder blade with the back of his hand.

'What?’ It was taking a minute for Chris’ brain to catch up, the tequila beginning to make his thoughts just out of reach. 

'The accountant. He’s gone to the bathroom,’ Ryan repeated, drunken urgency in his voice.

'And?’ 

'Now’s your chance. Get your dumb ass over there and win her back!’

'Dude, an hour ago you were telling me to “look at the potentials” if I remember correctly?’

'Yeah but you’re being a shit wingman so I may as well help you out. Seriously, go talk to her. At least say hi. You’ve been watching her all night, it’d be weird to not even acknowledge that you’ve seen her.’

Even to Chris’ tequila-hazed brain, that seemed to make some sense. So he downed the last mouthful of his current beer bottle, tucked his hands in his pockets and started to wind his way through the crowd towards where you were sitting, flicking at your phone screen while you waited for your date to return.

Chris kept hoping you’d look up and see him before he reached your table so that he wouldn’t have to speak to get your attention but you didn’t. Your gaze was steadfastly fixed to your phone and Chris idly wondered if he’d done that to you: made you afraid to be in a bar and draw attention to yourself. This was a bad idea but he was stuck now. He couldn’t turn on his heel and run because if you did choose that exact moment to look up, you’d know instantly that he’d been too cowardly to talk to you.

He was about three inches from you when you finally looked up due to the sheer proximity of him. You blinked in surprise, processing that he was there in front of you, about five different beginnings of sentences starting and dying on your lips in rapid succession.

'Hi,’ Chris said lamely, shrugging as he did so. 

'H- Hi,’ you countered. He’d caught you off guard, he knew. 

'Mind if I sit?’ he gestured to the empty booth seat that had been your date’s not two minutes ago. 

'I, um, I don’t-’ you stumbled over your words, clearly feeling awkward about the whole scenario.

'I know you’re on a date. I won’t be long,’ Chris kept his voice as level as possible, 'Please.’

You eventually gave one nod of your head and he sat down, exhaling deeply as he looked across the table at you.

'I didn’t know you were back in the city,’ you told him, maybe as an explanation as to how you ended up on his 'turf’ with another guy on a Saturday night.

'Tom’s birthday,’ he inclined his head towards the bar and you whipped your head around, as if having only just realised that he must have been here with someone, too.

You took in the line of his buddies at the bar, all friends that you’d seen fairly frequently during the almost-a-year you’d been together. 

'Ah, guy’s night,’ and Chris thought there was something like relief filtering through your voice. 

'Yeah, pretty sure Ry’s just bought out all the tequila in the joint,’ Chris tried a small chuckle but it was flat and short. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He kept moving them from his lap to the table. 

'Is your mom okay?’ You offered, trying to keep the safe small talk going.

'Yeah. Misses you,’ Chris gestured towards you without meeting your eyes.

'Chris…’ you should have known small talk couldn’t last forever.

'I know, I know,’ he was defensive, only just managing to keep the exasperation out of his voice. 'You could give her a call though. You broke up with me, not her.’

You gazed at him steadily for a moment, expression neutral and wondering where this was going, before giving in, 'I’ll call her tomorrow.’

'Thanks, she’ll be happy to hear from you.’

A silence settled over you, the air strained and tense with a myriad of unspoken feelings and unvoiced thoughts. Chris felt the full range of negative human emotion in one go: confusion, anger, frustration, hopelessness, but mostly, he was just sad.

You broke it eventually, unsure what else to do, 'Look, Michael will be back any-’

'So it’s Michael,’ Chris could taste the bitterness on his tongue, 'And what does Michael do?’

_What does he have that I don’t?_

'Chris, he’s a nice guy,’ you tried to placate him. 'What am I supposed to do? Sit home and pine for you for the rest of my life? Wishing things could be different? We’re broken up.’ 

Chris couldn’t help but slam his fist on the table. It wasn’t overly aggressive but it made a dull thud and was enough to make you sit up straight. He instantly forced himself to relax.

'Sorry, I just… I don’t see why… we didn’t have to break up, sweetheart. We could be happy - I could make you happy.’

'I wasn’t though,’ you replied. It was quiet but the words cut through him nonetheless. 'With you, yes. But it’s not just you, is it? It’s everything else that comes with being with you.’

'Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you give me chance to make it better?’ He was sounding more accusatory now and you wondered how long he’d been waiting to voice these questions. Was it as soon as you’d left? Or was it later, once the shock and grief had worn off?

'And what could you have done?’ You spat back, 'You weren’t about to change your whole life for me. I think it suited you, having a little lady situated well out of the way, a warm body in your bed when you were back in Boston. It certainly made things more convenient for you.’

Chris’ features were set instantly with anger, 'Hey, that’s not fair. That couldn’t be further from the truth and you know it. I loved you. I still love you, Jesus Christ.’

He sat back and ran a hand through his hair like he was exhausted from the admission. 

'Chris, we’d been together for eleven months and in that time I could count on one hand the amount of months we’d actually spent together. Nearly a year down the line and I had a toothbrush and a spare set of underwear at your house in Boston. I’d been to LA with you once. Once, Chris! You supposedly loved me so much that you kept a whole, huge section of your life completely separate from me.’

'Because I didn’t want you to have to deal with all that shit! You… you were home. LA… it has a way of ruining things.’

'Well, we didn’t need LA to do that in the end, it seems,’ you were subdued and resigned, and Chris hated it. 

'We were good together, whether you choose to remember those parts of our relationship or not. I know… looking back I realise I could have, should have, done some things differently but… you didn’t even give me a chance. I could have moved back to Boston permanently. We could have gone public if you wanted. I was trying to take cues from you, stick within what you were comfortable with. I know being with me is a big ask, I know that. But I thought we had a future.’

'Of course I remember the good parts of our relationship. But I would never have asked you to do all those things for me, would never have assumed they were even an option…’ your voice was filled with regret. Of the realisation that maybe you jumped the gun. You hadn’t been fair, hadn’t given him any indication that you were unhappy, didn’t even give him the opportunity to fight for you.

'Of course they were an option. You’re my world,’ Chris reached across the table and clasped your hand in desperation, 'My whole world, and I’m sorry I didn’t show you that well enough.’

You had been so wrapped up in the conversation, you failed to see Michael returning to the table. 

'Am I interrupting something?’ He said with some surprise as Chris jerked his hand back from yours. 

'I… uh… this is my friend, Chris,’ you gestured towards him, face aflame, 'Chris, Michael.’ 

Chris stood up and stuck his palm out on instinct but Michael just stared him out, ready to stand his ground. 

'I guess… I guess I’ll see you around,’ Chris backed down easily and gave you a small wave of his fingers through the air before returning his hands to his pockets and weaving his way back through the crowd. 

It took everything he had to not turn back. 

***

Ryan had pressed for a debrief when Chris got back to the bar but Chris didn’t really want to go into detail. 

'His name’s Michael. She said he’s a nice guy. Can we round everyone up and move to another bar?’

He had a sudden and overwhelming urge to get outside and leave the building. Like the walls were closing in on him, like it was suddenly far too hot inside. 

'Sure,’ Ryan answered, patting him on the shoulder before shouting out into the group, 'Come on boys, let’s move out!’

Everyone began downing the last of their drinks, settling tabs and making moves to leave, when Chris heard a familiar voice behind him, raised slightly to be heard over the music and the noise from hundreds of conversations in the bar.

'Did you mean it?’ 

He swung around in surprise to see you stood, alone, in front of him. You looked wary, and your gaze kept flickering to his friends behind him, all watching the exchange with interest. 

'Which part?’ Chris asked gently, taking a step forward towards you.

'All of it. Moving back to Boston, going public… you’d have done all that… for me?’

Chris nodded vigorously, 'Of course. I thought… I thought that’s where we were heading. I didn’t want to go too fast for you.’

'And I didn’t want to be the clingy girlfriend pushing you too far too quickly,’ you sighed, realising just what a lack of communication had caused. 

Chris turned back to his friends momentarily, 'You guys go ahead, I’ll catch you up.’

A few crude comments and jeers as they left, directed at him rather than you, made your lips quirk up in a smile as you looked at your feet awkwardly. Then two feet appeared in your line of vision and a curled finger was gently tugging your face upwards from just under your chin. 

'Where’d Michael go?’ 

'He left not long after you walked away, mumbling something about 'Captain Fucking America’,’ you rolled your eyes at his question. Of course he’d be worried about the other guy.

'Shame. Was it serious?’ He clearly didn’t think it was a shame at all. His face was right there and you could see nothing, and no one, else. 

'First date. Friends set us up.’

'Probably for the best. I don’t think you were a good match,’ he shrugged.

'You wouldn’t,’ you couldn’t help your wry half smile. He always did have a way of making you smile even when you were annoyed at him. 

You stood gazing at each other in the crowded, noisy room, breathing in your reunion and remapping each other’s faces by sight. 

'I’ve missed you,’ you admitted, honestly.

'I’ve missed you too,’ you could tell in his face he was serious and you knew how much you walking out must have hurt him. You knew because you hurt yourself when you did it. 

'Can I have your house key?’ you held out your hand. 

Confusion clouded his expression and the question was on his tongue but you cut him off before he could begin.

'You’ve got a night out with your friends to finish and I’m pretty tired. I’ll be waiting for you at yours when you get home.’

He dug around in his jeans pocket for his house key and pressed it into your hand. He didn’t take his hand away immediately and so you closed your fingers around his, relishing the contact. He used the connection to pull you to him and before you could even realise, you were pressed against his chest, his arms around you, and you were engulfed in his clean, soapy scent mixed with the faint headiness of cigarettes for the first time in months. You felt yourself relax into him and you tucked your head back in its spot against his shoulder, him angling his head to rest his cheek on the top of yours.

'I could just come back with you now,’ he spoke into your hair.

'No way, I’d never hear the end of it from that lot. I’ll shut the gates but leave the front door unlocked. I’ll be there when you’re done.’

'Promise?’

You pulled back to look him in the face, 'Promise.’

'Do you think it would be okay if I kissed you now?’ Chris grinned, one of his hands finding its way to your cheek to gently sweep your skin and cup your jaw.

'Here?’ you questioned, eyes darting to the crowded room.

'Right here.’

He leant in, capturing your lips with his in a bar full of people and it was like a craving you’d had for months, existing just below the surface as you’d tried to go about living you life, had just been satisfied.

You were home. 

***

Your reunion with Dodger was almost as happy as your reunion with Chris, but with infinitely more face licking. You made yourself a cup of tea and padded about the house, watching some tv, curling up on the sofa with Dodger next to you.

You knew that a conversation, a real one, was going to have to happen but for now you just wanted to relax knowing that you were both willing to at least give it a shot. Walking away from Chris had been one of the hardest things you’d ever done: it wasn’t until you actually did it that you realised how much worse it was than any gossip or rumours you’d heard. 

Eventually, you were too tired to stay awake any longer so you padded upstairs to Chris’ bedroom. Remembering that you had no belongings in his house, you borrowed one of his tshirts and found a spare toothbrush in the guest bathroom. You settled under the covers, Dodger turning a few times on the mattress before plopping down over your feet. 

Everything was so familiar, and Chris’ bed enrobed you in his scent. It wasn’t long before you drifted off to sleep, feeling content for the first time in a long time. 

***

What had started as a night of drowning his sorrows was now way more of a celebration as Chris threw himself wholeheartedly into the evening’s proceedings, unable to keep the smile from his face. 

He was teased mercilessly by his friends, of course, but he didn’t care. You’d be there when he got home later and that was more than enough to keep him grinning all night.

So when he keyed in the code to open the gates, he felt like they literally couldn’t open any slower. But he was in the house soon enough and, finding the place in darkness, headed straight upstairs to his bedroom. 

There you were, curled up on your side with Dodger at your feet. His dog calmly lifted his head at Chris’ entrance but didn’t move any further, seemingly trying to avoid disturbing you. 

Chris stripped to his boxers, not quite sure if his usual completely naked approach to sleeping was appropriate given the very recent change in your relationship, and climbed under the sheets next to you, wrapping one strong arm around your middle and tugging your bodies together, his chest flush against your back.

You stirred and craned your neck to look back at him, eyes heavy from sleep but a smile gracing your face nonetheless. You reached an arm back to rest your hand against his cheek and he kissed you lightly on the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

'You’re back,’ you pointed out the obvious in your hazy state. 

'I am. And you’re wearing my tshirt,’ he observed, smoothing his hands over the material against your ribs.

'Hmm, s'comfy,’ you turned around under his arm to face him, 'Did you have a good night?’

'Well, it took a very unexpected and satisfying turn so yes, it was awesome,’ he pressed his lips to yours to emphasise his point and you ran your fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his head. 

The kiss deepened and Chris tried to pull you into his body even more, attempting to get as close as possible. It wasn’t long before his hands drifted lower, cupping your ass and giving you a little squeeze, drawing a low giggle from you. 

'Oh, I’ve missed that,’ Chris spoke against your mouth, grinning cheekily, and you hooked a leg over his.

'My laugh?’ you asked, feigning misunderstanding.

'Hmm, and other things,’ his voice was low and gravelly as he slipped his fingers under the hem of the tshirt you wore and caressed the skin of your thighs, his touch dancing the length of the leg that rested across him, 'I’m so happy you’re here.’

'Me too.’

You gazed at each other in silence until your eyes flickered down to Chris’ mouth, your tongue darting out to instinctively wet your bottom lip. Chris noticed and when he spoke it was a whisper.

'We should really talk,’ he was giving you an out, if you wanted it, you realised. But you didn’t.

'Tomorrow,’ you whispered back, your fingers travelling from his hair to his broad shoulders, relishing the feel of the hard muscles under the skin there. 'When we’ve had some sleep and it’s actually daylight. Now though… I think Dodger might want to go to his own bed.’

Chris was quiet for a moment, searching for expression for any sign of indecision or uneasiness, before asking, 'You sure?’

'One hundred per cent.’

He nodded and pressed a lingering kiss against your mouth, following it with peppered butterfly kisses along your jaw and cheekbones before he rose from the bed, 'Come on boy, let’s go get you tucked up.’

Dodger padded out after his human and they left you waiting in Chris’ bed in anticipation. You could barely keep your excitement bubbling over as you buried your face in the pillow and laughed to yourself. You were tingling, flushed, already over heating. Being back in Chris’ bed must have kick-started something in your subconscious because you’d been dreaming about him before he arrived home, and it wasn’t a PG-13 dream either. 

So when he arrived back to the bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him, the click of the catch like a full stop at the end of a sentence, you were ready. You crawled to the edge of the bed and rose up on to your knees as he cleared the distance from the door in long strides. You collided together, you pulling his face down to yours by his neck, his arms winding around your body, under the tshirt and holding you fast. What had been gentle and tentative in your kisses before now flared with heat and haste and you knew that this first reunion was going to be fast and chaotic, the desperation palpable in the air of the bedroom. 

His kisses began to travel, down your neck and across your collarbones, as he bunched the material of his tshirt in his hands. He gathered it from the hem and whipped it over your head before you had even realised what was happening, leaving you naked except for your lace underwear. You were straight back to kissing him, having missed his contact even in the seconds it took to undress you, hard and bruising. He began to urge you backwards so that you were lay under him, untucking your legs as you went. 

He hovered over you, arms planted either side of your body and bearing most of his weight, the only real contact was his lips on your body as his made the most of your new lack of clothing, trailing his mouth across your heated flesh, pausing for each nipple to swirl his tongue around the bud before continuing his downward journey. 

Shifting to one arm, he used his now free fingers to shift your panties to one side and press against your clit, alternating the pressure as he travelled the length of you, spreading your wetness around through your searing heat. Your breathing was laboured as you watched him, feeling that this was somehow new and all too familiar at the same time.

You lifted your legs to plant your feet on his hips, using them to manoeuvre the material of his boxer briefs down his legs. They fell to the floor of their own accord once they reached his knees and he stepped out of them even as he was working your own underwear down your legs. 

The second they were gone, he was right back where he had just been, working one and then two long fingers inside you, the sudden change making you arch off the mattress, a delicate gasp falling from your lips. A few more scissoring pumps, stretching you and reacquainting himself with your most intimate parts and he was out, leaving you empty while he blindly searched his night stand drawer for a condom. His actions proved fruitful eventually and he made quick work of rolling the condom down over his length. You watched from you lay against the bed, finding some pleasurable fascination in watching him grip his cock, framed between your legs propped against the edge of the mattress, pumping a couple of times, readying himself for you. 

Then he was over you, cradled by your thighs and lining himself up at your entrance before sliding in fully in one swift thrust. Your respective moans and groans mingled in the air and you shut your eyes tightly, relishing in the stretch and the fullness. _Finally._

You wrapped your legs around his lower back to bring you even closer together where you were so intimately joined and then he moved: few tentative thrusts while he let you adjust and then picked up the pace to almost deliriously delicious speed, the feeling of being full almost relentless as he sheathed himself inside you over and over again. 

The only sounds were of the almost obscene slap of skin on skin as you collided together and your gasping, moaning breaths as you pushed towards release. He brought his forehead to yours, forearms planted either side of your head, sweat beading his brow and you clasped his face firmly between your hands as you rolled your hips pretty much involuntarily to meet each thrust. 

He pushed you further, snapping his hips against yours, grinding against you, listening for the tell-tale adjustment in the pitch of the keening noises from your throat, trying to determine how close you were. Fairly confident you were almost there, he stood up, bracing his thighs against the bed, and slid his hands under your ass, lifting your hips into the air, and began pounding in to you once more. You tightened your legs around his waist, clamping him to you as the new angle made his cock slide against your upper wall in a way that it hadn’t before, finding that spot you needed to feel pressure on.

You were helpless to control anything in this position, your upper body shunting against the sheets with every thrust. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to ground you as he drove you higher and higher before finally, finally circling a thumb on your clit. A few seconds of attention and the additional sensation sent you spiralling, a long moan leaving you as you rode out your cresting orgasm, walls clamping, legs trembling, winding your hands into your hair and barely able to stand it.

You felt Chris snap against you a few more times before they stilled, not a sliver of space between your bodies, and you knew he was emptying himself inside you. You watched his expression of pleasure as the climax took over him, his biceps taut from where he was holding you against him, and he undulated his hips, sparking dull aftershocks through your body, before dropping both you and himself to the mattress, attaching yourselves at the lips and breathing heavily as you came down. 

'Jesus Christ, you’re incredible,’ Chris slipped from within you and leant up on his elbows, smoothing the hair away from your face with something like wonder in his features.

'You’re not so bad yourself,’ you told him, beaming.

'I can’t wait to wake up with you tomorrow,’ you could hear the sincerity in his voice as he got up to take care of the condom. 

'Me neither,’ you whispered back and he turned back before going into the bathroom to smile at you.

And while everything felt too new and too tentative to actually say the words out loud, you could feel the unspoken 'I love you’s wrapping around you both as surely as you could feel the bed sheets over you when Chris pulled them up, tugging your naked body against his and spooning you, burying his face in your hair. 

***

You were woken the next morning by the tickle of a beard against your neck and shoulders, punctuated by hot, open mouthed kisses and you smiled to yourself as you came around.

'Good morning,’ you yawned, blinking sleepily and turning in Chris’ arms to face him.

'It is. A very good morning,’ he replied, now butterflying your face with the tickling kisses, making you laugh. 

'Got any plans for today?’

'I’m not sure but I’m hoping they all involve you,’ he said, still lavishing your skin with kisses.

'I think that can probably be arranged.’

You were interrupted by the piercing sound of a phone ringing from somewhere on the floor. You knew it wasn’t yours because you’d put yours on to charge before going to sleep last night and it was resting happily on the nightstand.

'Pretty sure that’s you ringing,’ you told him, pushing at his shoulder half-heartedly.

'I don’t wanna,’ he pouted, tightening his grip on you.

'Go on you big baby, answer it. It could be important.’

He huffed and rolled his front, scrabbling around on the floor for what you assumed were his jeans. You shamelessly took a moment to appreciate his bare ass before he shifted back against the headboard and answered the call. You curled up next to him, resting your head and a palm on his chest as he free arm wound around your shoulders.

'Mom, hi. To what do I owe the pleasure on this lovely Sunday morning?’

You smothered a laugh behind your hand. It was just a little over the top and Lisa was surely going to have questions. 

'You want to know if I’d like to come over for dinner?’ You suspected he was repeating her question for your benefit, 'Is the Pope a Catholic?’

He was quiet for a moment while his mom was talking before continuing his side of the conversation, 'Sounds delicious. Yeah, I’ll be there. Listen, can I bring a date?’

You looked up at him in surprise but he was already grinning down at you. 

'Oh, you saw that? Well, yeah, we’re getting back together.’

You could hear Lisa’s exclamations of excitement and happiness from the other end of the phone and you couldn’t help but feel relieved. There had been a part of you that assumed she must have hated you for walking out on her son.

'I know, I know, couldn’t be happier,’ a swift kiss landed against your forehead, 'Okay mom, we’ll see you later. Love you, bye. Bye.’

He hung up and placed the handset on his nightstand. 

'Well, she’s happy.’

You hummed contentedly next to him, basking in his warmth.

'There’s a picture of us circulating,’ Chris admitted, keeping his voice neutral and waiting to see how you’d react.

'From last night?’

'Yeah.’

'It was inevitable really, wasn’t it?’

'Yup. Are you going to look?’

You knew he was referring to the comments and articles rather than the picture and you were quiet for a moment while you considered it. Would you?

'No, I’m staying well away from all that. It’s just negative and I don’t need it in my life. I want to focus on us and our reality, not their irrelevant commentary on what they think our relationship is. I’ve learned my lesson.’

'Good, because regardless, it doesn’t matter what anyone says. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you,’ he rolled over you so you were under him, pinned to the bed by his bodyweight, 'You understand that, right?’

You nodded, feeling your eyes well a little. You nearly lost all this.

'I don’t expect perfection, because this is real and reality isn’t perfect, but I do need you to talk to me when you’re unhappy, or feeling lonely, or unsure. We can’t go anywhere if we can’t communicate.’

'I know. And I will. I promise. No more keeping it hidden.’

'Good,’ he said with some finality, running his thumbs along your cheek bones, 'Now, what shall we do with the rest of our day?’

You smiled coquettishly and looked up at him through your eyelashes, 'I can think of a few things. Want to take a shower with me?’

'Let’s go!’ He was instantly on his knees, yanking you up by your arm, 'I can get you dirty again after though, right?’

'Oh, I’m counting on it,’ and you hopped up, running off to the bathroom with your boyfriend chasing after you.


End file.
